The End Of Undómiel And Estel
by FreaknessForDummies
Summary: A short fic about the last moments of both Aragorn Elessar's (Estel's) and Arwen Undómiel's lives, as they both realise what it is to be mortal. Songfic around Loreena McKennit's 'Carrighfergus'.


DISCLAIMER: I do not own _The Lord of the Rings_, that is the property of the most marvellous Professor Tolkien, and shouldn't be toyed with. Unfortunately I have. I also don't own Loreena McKennitt's rendition of the traditional song 'Carrighfergus', which I have altered and based this fanfic around. I give my sincerest apologies to both masterminds of the arts.

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'The End of Undómiel And Estel'.

Arwen's eyes were red as she led her horse through the ruins of Caras Galadhon. It had been empty for no more than a hundred years, and already no more familiar to her than the mountains in the East. Abandoned _telain_ were broken and some hanging dangerously from high branches of mallorn trees. The fading light of both the day and place stung her eyes, as if a dark cloud surrounded Lothlórien, now bereft of her kin. The day had ended and it would be hours still before she would reach Cerin Amroth on this, her final journey.

The Queen of Gondor had ridden ahead of her escorts, leaving her ladies behind her. They were not used to seeing her as she was now: no fire could warm her spirit, no song could ease her out of mourning and bring back her loving heart which had died with Estel. Now she dismounted, weaving her horse through the tall trees that eventually led out onto the hills beyond the city, her grandmother's land which she knew so well.

With a sigh, she now regretted her choice to have Eldarion and her daughters stay in Minas Tirith. She had missed her children terribly these past weeks, and though she loved them, she could not bring herself to have them witness the fall of their mother, the last of the Eldar in Middle-Earth. Her brothers had departed from Mithlond some years ago, and with them went her grandfather Lord Celeborn of Lórien, to the beautiful land of Valinor, undying, in the West. With her death would end the race of the Firstborn in Arda, the knowledge and lore of the Eldar gone forever.

Soft golden leaves carpeted the forest floor, and Arwen Undómiel took off her shoes in the late winter night. It would be spring soon, and the _mellyrn_ would flower and the beauty of her people nearly restored, as all things are in the spring. But she would not see it, and the dead leaves underfoot were not as soft as she had once remembered. The Golden Wood was aged, and soon none would hold it in memory.

While the ladies of her house stopped for rest in the deepening night, Arwen paid no heed to the chill in the air, nor to her weariness, but kept walking. She could see the trees were thinning, and the boundaries of the city coming to an end. In the wild, she now thought of her husband. How she missed her Estel, her King, her Ranger from afar. She had bade him wait, not to give up his life, first to wait one day, and then another, until three weeks had passed. But Estel grew wearier by the day, tired of not being able to rest after more than two hundred years. On one night not unlike this one, she had come before him, now begging him to wait just a little longer.

Tears came to Arwen's eyes as she walked, though she did not think she could have cried any more. She remembered sitting next to him, and the age that clouded his eyes had startled her. Yet still she had pleaded with him to stay.

"My lady," he had said to her, his voice now clear in her mind. "Ask yourself whether you would have me wait until I wither and fall from my high seat unmanned and witless. Would you have our son witness the demise of his father, useless and lame? I have been given the grace to leave this world as I will, and I would not have you see me despair at the end of my days."

Then he had taken her face in his hands, and he had kissed her. A soft kiss, a warm gesture out of a cold time, like a clear sunrise in winter.

The woods were clearing slightly as the ground began to slope upwards. Arwen's eyes turned to the East, where the sun was soon to rise, the sky already grey and lightening. It had been many years since she and Estel had stood together on Cerin Amroth: he was still young, and she had no idea of the fate before her. Now as she took her first steps up the high hill, words of that meeting came back to her mind and, even in the cold winter with her cape drawn tight around her, touched her heart.

"With your hope I will hope." He spoke the truth, looking into her eyes, and for a moment she forgot her immortality. "The Twilight is not mine, Lady; for I am mortal. If you would follow me, then it you must renounce."

Then her dream was broken, and it seemed to her that the sunlight of that day was dimmed, for she loved her people of all things. The decision was hers, and underneath a canopy of leaves, she bound herself to Aragorn Elessar.

"Then Twilight I will renounce, Dúnadan, and follow you. Yet there lie my people, the home of my kin."

She fought back tears again as she reached the top of Cerin Amroth, stumbling over her cloak and loose stones, broken pieces of the past as the King's house. It had been hours since she had passed through Caras Galadhon and, reaching the top of the hill, she had a clear view towards it, where the red sky was getting brighter as the sun came up. It was the same sunrise as a thousand from her youth in Imladris, and she turned West, where she was ever headed in life or death.

She wept openly and bitterly now, and called for her father. What would he think if he could see his daughter now? She sank down upon the grass-covered stones, which once held royalty, and wiped her eyes. The past was in the South, in Gondor, and what could have been a future lay in Valinor to the West. In either direction, nothing was left that could cure her of the shadow in her heart.

Arwen stood.

"For the land is wide, and I cannot walk over…" she sang quietly.

Trying to prove herself wrong, she moved to the tree where she had given her love to Estel so many years ago. There she lost her strength, and she landed hard in the long grass, crying "Estel! Estel!" as she had the night of his death.

When finally he had announced the last days of his reign, Estel had walked – slowly and with difficulty – down the Silent Street and through the door to the Halls of the Kings at the day's opening.

"No other will carry me when I may still carry myself," he declared to the soldiers, who were waiting to transport him hence.

He laid his head down on the soft pillow on his bed, and one by one dismissed his guards out into the red sun that rose unnoticed outside the Halls. His son Eldarion he beckoned forth, and he kneeled. And stretching, Estel took the crown from his own head and placed it on his. He then took the Sceptre and touched each of Eldarion's shoulders with it.

"Hail Eldarion son of Aragorn, the King of Gondor and Arnor. May your days be in peace and your reign long."

Though now full-grown, Eldarion looked at his father with the innocence of a child upon his face. But without a word, he kissed Estel on the forehead, and held his now winged head high as he left the Halls. He looked back only once, his cheeks shining wet.

Now Arwen came to him, and as she remembered this she allowed herself a small smile, that her Estel had been a great man unto his very end.

She sat at his bedside and soothed her hands over his forehead. He spoke to her then words worthy of remembrance: their time in Imladris, in Lórien, of the very hill on which she now sat. He spoke of his own passing, and hers.

"There is no comfort, Arwen, for the pain of your heart in the circles of the world. There is none that I can give. Repent then, and go into the West, where the memories of our days shall be ever clear, but just that. Or choose to follow the Doom of Men."

"I have made that choice long ago," Arwen said, clasping his hand in hers, and bringing it to her lips. "Whether by any choice now for good or ill, there will be no ship that can bear me hence. The Gift of Men I now understand, and it is bitter to receive."

"Shh," he whispered to her, as one of the torches burnt out in the Halls. "Memories live beyond the circles of the world, where we all must go in sorrow, but not in despair."

Then Estel started to sing, in a low, choked voice. It was a song he had had in his mind for many weeks, and he sang it quietly to his Queen now, in the hour of their parting.

"Nae! I wish I were back in Imladris,

Only for nights in Elrond's house.

I would swim over the deepest ocean,

Only for nights in Elrond's house."

Arwen smiled again, going over in her mind the words of the simple song. The sun – it was full morning now – broke through the leaves of the trees.

"But the land is wide," sang Estel in her memories. "And I can't walk over,

Neither have I wings to fly.

If I could find some loyal horseman

To carry me over to my love and die." His voice broke softly, and he coughed for a while before going on.

"In Valinor, it is reported,

They've marble stones there black as ink.

With gold and silver I would transport her

But I'll say no more now till I get a drink."  
  
Arwen remembered she had smiled at this and, through tears, had brought a cup of water to his dry lips. Estel would have given everything he had to see her smile, even if it meant sending her so far away that he would never see it. With gold and silver… But he continued.

"I am old today, but I was seldom younger," he started again, as he brought a hand up to her smooth face, not troubled by the ages.

"A lonely rover from town to town.

Ah, but I am weak now, my days are over,

Come, Elven maiden, and lay me down."

And she did so, letting his head rest on the pillow beneath it, now taking his other hand. Leaning down, her black hair brushed his face as she kissed him, wishing she knew the fate of the Men beyond the Halls of Mandos. But she did not, and could not, and so had to have faith in the intentions of the Valar.

"Navaer," whispered Estel, their eyes meeting at the last.

"Estel!" she cried, clenching his hands in hers, as if it would keep him there longer. "Estel!"

But he was gone, his youth now visible to all who visited afterwards. Arwen, however, would not stay if even her body had refused the journey. Now she was here upon Cerin Amroth, and would stay until the world's ending.

She laid her body out upon the grass taking in the smells of the land, of the spring, which would not be long in coming. Light from above radiated off of her, making her glow as a heavenly Queen, and she heard voices below. Her escorts and the ladies of her house approached the hill on this fine morning.

Silken clouds passed overhead, and she sang Estel's song once more, so that she might meet him again, after she had passed through the worlds and the ages.

"Nae! I wish I were back in Imladris," she sang, smiling.

"Only for nights in Elrond's house..."

THE END

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Talan –flet (telain, flets)

Mellyrn – Mallorn tree (plural)

Thanks to Aine and Rose B. of the PPC for their info! The song used in this story is an altered version of Loreena McKennitt's 'Cerrighfergus', sung by Cedric Smith. I wanted to use a Sindarin name for this story (would have been 'I Narn I Ammarthuin oh Undómiel ar Estel'), but my knowledge of Sindarin is minimal, so the grammar's probably way off. It's supposed to read 'The Tale of the Deaths of Undómiel and Estel', so if anyone knows enough Sindarin to help, I'd still like to put it up under that name, or at least include it.  
  
A lot of the dialogue between Aragorn and Arwen on Cerin Amroth and some from the Halls is paraphrased from the Appendices at the end of RotK, so if you get the feeling you've read some of it before, that's why!

As always, reviews and constructive criticism are most welcome, as this is (looking back) my first serious fic. And a songfic at that. Thanks to those 4 who have reviewed so far, pointing out my little Sindarin grammar mistakes and all that jazz.


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